


The Consort

by rubyspark



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, M/M, Modern Royalty, i don't know what to rate this yet, palace au, probably some cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2575160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyspark/pseuds/rubyspark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Selection AU. Every year, ever since the Crown Prince of the Royals turned legal, in order to celebrate the turning-of-age, the King and Queen announced for an annual selection for females and males from age of seventeen to twenty two to be brought into the Palace and presented to the Prince. If a lucky person catches the eye of the Prince, she or he would be automatically turned into a One – despite the former ranking they were – and the family would automatically become Twos and forever live in luxury and peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. // ONE

**Author's Note:**

> i went a little more with their film appearances but really i'm just horrible at describing so ;-;

Newt’s lithe body shakes and shivers, as he is checked by the security guards for potential weapons and harmful substances such as metal and poison that may hurt any of the Royals if bought into the Palace. The pale male figures the actions are useless and dumb though; in the social hierarchy of labels from One to Seven – One being royals such as the King and Queen and Seven being the banished and outcasted criminals and the homeless, Newt is a (not very proud) Six. One step away from being sleeping on the streets and a few miles away from catching the dangerous diseases that lurk between the dangerous andcontagious borders of the country in where the Sevens live. _If I had metal or poison,_ Newt thinks bitterly and almost scoffs at the patheticness of the guards even checking the _soles of his shoes_ to see if he has hidden anything there, _I’d sell them and make some money for my family, not bring them into the Palace and waste it on the Royals. No wait, if I had metal or poison, I wouldn’t even be here in the first place._

//

Every year, ever since the Crown Prince of the Royals (which Newt never bothered to check the name of; how can he have time to check the Royal’s name when there’s fields of crops waiting for him to fertilize?) turned legal, in order to celebrate the turning-of-age, the King and Queen announced for an annual selection for females and males from age of seventeen to twenty two to be brought into the Palace and presented to the Prince. If a lucky person catches the eye of the Prince (and they wed), she or he would be automatically turned into a One – despite the former ranking they were – and the family would automatically become Twos and forever live in luxury and peace.

Despite the earlier disagreements from the media at first when this tradition was held, such as people entering and seducing the Prince just for money and fame (which Newt guiltlessly admits doing – right now), the selection has now become a great form and source of entertainment, and every year it stirs the hearts of young people into dreaming that one day, they will become a consort of the Prince and live in royalty.

Newt never once fancied money or turning into a One – even though being a Six equals 24/7 hours of hard labor and very little pay – sometimes to the point he cannot even shower once every two days due to the anxiety of not being able to pay the water bill monthly. He never once bat an eyelash at the posters and advertisements around the fields when the annual selection date was near – and kept away from the royal guards that would come once a year to collect hopeful hearts into the Palace and see whether the Prince liked them enough to arrange them to become a consort.

Being a Six meant tough work and little pay – but Newt was willing to put up with it and accept his fate, and probably, get married to another Six in the future and teach their children how to save money and become independent.

However, everything all changed when his father fell sick earlier this year.

//

Their family was never rich, not even a tiny bit, and they relied on selling crops and chucks of wood in order to stay alive, but it was a happy family, with cheers and warmth every night. Newt thought they would be able to last, but his thought crashed and burnt like sheets of paper dumped inside fire when they discovered that his father had caught the Winter Disease. The disease was not an incurable disease, but it was extremely expensive and time worthy to cure. When the doctors announced the price of the medication for the disease, Newt had to personally prevent his poor, fragile mother from falling onto the ground when they realized they couldn’t even afford one month’s use of the medication. Newt had to be there to wipe his mother’s continuously falling tears, and be there to listen to his father about “letting go” and “staying happy forever” on the bed.

In such a hopeless and despairing situation, hope was hard to find. But it soon found itself onto the doorstep of the house, in the form of an advertisement to announce the annual selection was coming by.

//

Newt grumbles to himself as he carefully picks at his blonde hair in a mirror to remove dirt and leaves. He’s never been a one to care about appearance, but entering the selection meant you had to look _good_ enough, because obviously, the Prince would pick you from your appearance, as it’s hard to tell the personality and heart without knowing each other for a long time.

In a corner, Newt overhears a group of women giggling at him. He sighs.

“Frances, look! A male entering the selection. This is so rare, I can’t believe it.”

“Jessica, do you think he’s gay?”

“Are you kidding me? I doubt so. I mean, sure, he’s entering the selection, but judging from the lanky appearance and a visible frown on his face – he should be excited because he’s one step closer from being a One – he’s obviously in it for the money. But let’s don’t judge, we’re in it for the money too.”

“Hey guys! I'm not in it for the money.”

“Sure sure Lucia, say that to that two thousand dollar dress you’ve been eyeing in the magazine advertisement for six months.”

“Whatever.”

“I know the selection is open to both females and males – but are you sure the Prince is bisexual and will even look at people his gender? From the last time I heard, all of his consorts were females.”

“It depends, Coral, I guess. I mean the Prince in the neighboring country of ours – what’s the name of the country again – has like, 5 male and 5 female consorts. He likes to keep thing open and have a wide variety of choices, apparently.”

Cringing, Newt turns away from the direction of the noise. He stares at his own body, and can’t help but bit his lip in worry. Will the Prince even consider him attractive? He’s a Six. On top of that, he has no muscles or charisma to win the Prince’s heart over. Sure, he’s tall, but also ridiculously skinny (from the lack of food he has access to as a Six) and pale and has no presence to hold a crowd of people, let alone the entire country when the Prince eventually becomes the King. He ruffles the mop of blonde hair on his head, and closes his eyes, praying. This is his only chance of getting money. If he becomes a consort, he would become a One and his family would become Twos. As Twos, people are able to be accessed to free medicinal service and monthly payments of large sums of money. His family would never have to worry about bills again, and they would eat or shower or entertain themselves as much as they want.

_It sounds like paradise._

Newt decides he now finally understands why everyone wants to enter the selection so much.

Suddenly, a loud voice booms across the selection signing up area and all the participants entering, including Newt, turns their attention to the voice.

A handsome looking guard with black hair and tanned skin steps onto a platform, and Newt can hear various people around him snicker to the sight of the attractive appearance. Newt sighs at the noise although admits himself the guard is good looking (and understands how the guard would attract the people around him), but he’s here for the Prince – not for a royal guard, even though royal guards are at least a Three.

“Good evening everyone,” the royal guard says swiftly, and Newt wonders how many times he has said it to the crowd during selection sign ups, “my name is Minho, a royal guard who serves the Kingdom in where you are about to enter and possibly become the place where you will live from now on,” a murmur of excitement spreads throughout the crowd of young people with hopeful hearts, “we have now got your carriages ready, please enter the carriage number you were given during the sign ups. In twenty minutes, the carriages will take off to the Kingdom – in which we will arrive in approximately five hours. And tonight, you will enter the royal chambers and whether you are selected by the Prince to become a consort, I’ll leave it to your luck and destiny. Good luck everyone, and hopefully by the end of today all your dreams are fulfilled.”

The royal guard – Minho – then steps out from his platform and everyone cheers. Suddenly the crowd shuffles and Newt almost falls off his feet. He then realizes everyone is looking for their carriage number.

A pale flush spreading easily on his white, blemished face (in which he tried really hard to wash as clean as possible this morning) at his cluelessness, Newt fumbles for the slip of paper he was given during sign ups.

**CARRIAGE: TWO.**

Giving himself a nonchalant shrug, he makes his way to the carriages at the front.

//

Carriage Two is a gorgeous, pale sky-blue carriage with golden trims and curtains. Newt finds himself staring at the carriage in admiration before he knocks some sense into himself and quickly climbs inside of the carriage.

He settles for a spot in the corner, and soon enough, more people come in. By the time the guards are blowing whistles for the last few participants to climb into their carriages, Carriage Two is filled with four more girls and one boy, who appears around Newt’s age, or a few years older.

Suddenly, one of the girls grins and claps her hands, “Let’s all get to know each other! We’ll be stuck together for the five hours anyway, so it’ll be great if we could become friends somehow. Just in case, you know, more than one of us gets chosen during the selection. It’ll be nice to have some acquaintances inside the Palace.”

Everyone seems to agree, so Newt forces himself to sit up straight and gives everyone a small smile.

The girl grins, “I’ll go first since I suggested the idea. My name is Linda, and I’m eighteen this year. A Six – although that is useless information as we’re all a Six, and my family is on the verge of becoming Sevens. Which is the reason you know, why I’m here.”

The girl who sits beside her appears to be amused, “so you’re here for the money? Not because you like the Prince or something?”

Linda snorts, “Come on, as a Six, I haven’t even seen a bloody picture of the Prince yet. How to fall in love with him?”

The girl hums in agreement, “Of course. Anyway everyone, nice to meet you all. I’m Joanna, seventeen. My status as a Six is slightly better than others, as my family owns a stock business. Still not great though. I’m here because my friend,” she gestures the other girl sitting beside her with a chuckle, “is participating and I wanted to come along and see what the Palace is like.”

The boy beside Newt almost snorts, but Linda does it out loud. Joanna simply shrugs.

Joanna’s friend beams and waves, “Hey there everyone. Rosa here, seventeen. I’d really like myself to become the main character of a happy romance novel, so why not.”

The last girl bows respectfully and sheds a smile, “My name is Anna, age nineteen, and I’m really excited about the whole Palace thing. I read in books that the Palace is a wonderful place to live in, so I’ve decided to try now I’m the age for the selections.”

The boy beside Newt then gives a chuckle and waves slightly, “My name’s Ash. Twenty two currently. Yeah, like the ash from the factories during daylight. I’m here because of a bet, actually. My friends dared me to try. You know how the Prince, until now, has not gotten himself a male consort yet? And like, how all Princes or Royals or people like that in neighboring countries has at least one consort from each gender to ‘try and test’ things out a bit? Well, my friends and I figured, if the Prince ever gets a male consort, he’ll become famous and a hot topic to the entire country for at least a year. Who’s not up to a challenge with a reward like that? My friends wanted to come too, but they’re either not in the age limit or already married or has a girlfriend or their family didn’t allow them to come or they’ve already participated in the previous rounds and weren’t selected – you know the rule, you only get to participate in the selection once in your lifetime.”

The girls nod, interested, and everyone stares at Newt until he realizes he’s the only one hasn’t introduced himself yet.

“Um,” he says awkwardly, “I’m Newt. Seventeen. I’m here for money, and yeah, I admit to that. But not because I wanted to buy gold or clothing or something,” he says, remembering girl Lucia beforehand, “but because I need money to cure my father, who has the Winter Disease. I guess that’s my sob story,” he finishes lamely.

To his surprise, nobody laughed and snickered, and a few even looked sorry for a few moments.

“That sucks,” Joanna says slowly, “anyway Newt, hopefully you’ll get the money one way or another.”

Newt smiles, “Thank you.”

Rosa beams, “How that we know each other, let’s together play some games!”

“What type of games?” Ash asks, and Linda tilts her head, interested.

“Something like scissors, paper and rock!”

The entire carriage groans.

“Rosa, stop being like this!” Joanna whines at her friend and they all laugh. Somehow, Newt finds himself laughing too.

Suddenly, a knock is heard on the door. Everyone visibly tenses, and Newt sees Anna quickly rummaging her dress to make it neater.

Linda hesitates, “yes?”

The door opens, and Newt finds himself stunned when Minho, the royal guard from before enters the carriage. Newt turns his head and sees that Ash, Linda, Anna, Joanna and Rosa all book just as surprised he is.

“I’m terribly sorry to disturb you all,” Minho says quietly in a respectful tone, hints of his high education level almost revealing through the words, “Unfortunately, the carriage I was supposed to be in suddenly became too full due to the amount of stock and supply we had to bring with us here. I’m afraid to say that I’ll have to cram in with you guys for the five hours to the Royal Palace.”

Ash shrugs, “It is okay, man, come in.”

The girls gives each other glances before nodding and breaking into smiles, “It’s okay, Sir Minho,” Rosa chirps in, “it’s normal for situations like that.”

“Please come in and settle yourself down next to Newt,” Anna says, gesturing the spot beside the latter. In reflex, Newt panics slightly until he glumly realizes the biggest spot in the carriage _is_ right next to him, so he nods and moves over, gesturing the empty space.

Minho beams, and seats himself next to Newt.

Newt rests his head on the wall of the carriage, trying hard to not breath in the obviously expensive perfume the guard is wearing, as well as the slightly musky scent. For some weird reason, Newt feels like somebody is watching him. He shuffles awkwardly, and silently sighs in relief when the feeling wears off. Allowing his drowsiness to take over him, he closes his eyes and dreams in light – white shimmers brightening up every inch of his mind.

//

When Newt wakes up with a blurry mind and eyes, the first thing he notices the carriage slowly rocking from side to side, along with the trotting and faint neighing of horses. He jerks up, panic slowly rises in his throat of where he is, until he remembers he’s currently in a carriage, on the way to the Palace in order to take part in the selection. He gulps down the saliva collecting in his mouth, as a wave of homesickness crashes upon him like merciless waves, threatening to drown him. As the only child (his parents were way too poor to have a second one), his parents dotted upon him despite the poor financial income and tried their best to give Newt everything he needed. Now, Newt wanted nothing more than to be in his parents’ embrace, and be hushed by them to sleep.

Instead, he’s sitting inside a royal carriage, probably miles away from Six already and on the way to One. He glances around at the people around him. Ash, Linda, Rosa, Joanna and Anna. They all seem asleep, out there dreaming in one way or another.

_All for money._

Suddenly, a chuckle makes him twists his body, and almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the royal guard, Minho, chuckling at him.

Feeling a pang of irritation and embarrassment spreading throughout his body, he flushes and hopes the slight darkness of the carriage won’t let the redness of his face be visible.

“What?” he asks, voice coming out more rough than he expected.

Minho didn’t look intimidated or affected at all. Instead, he replies, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Sighing, Newt plays with the hem of his shirt and wonders whether to tell the truth to the royal guard. At the end, he decides that it’s the worst he can go, “yeah. This is the first time I’ve been outside of Six and it’s… I know I’m not supposed to miss Six when I’m possibly in Four and Three right now…but… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

Minho smiles, but it’s not the kind of smile that will make you shrivel up or feel uncomfortable. Instead, it’s warm and sweet, and it makes you think of sunflowers in Spring or the soft sway of wind in Autumn days.

“I understand that feeling,” Minho says softly, “but trust me, you’ll get used to it if the Prince really chooses you. If not, well,” he laughs a little, “you’ll be back before you blink your eyes. It’s not going to be bad, trust me.”

Newt lets out a grateful smile at the comfort, and ducks his head in embarrassment, “thank you,” he says softly, wondering if the other could hear his voice.

“No problem. Any more problems you want to ask about?” Minho asks, and friendliness jumps out of every letter and word that Newt thinks it’ll be almost rude if he didn’t kept the conversation going.

“Well…the Prince…” Newt starts, tilting his head in confusion, “as a Six, I’ve never once really heard about him or met him. I’m wondering…what’s he like?”

For a split moment Newt thinks Minho isn’t going to answer his question, but then the royal guard lets out a clear, enjoyable laugh, “I’m sorry, I forgot you people live so far outside the centre of the country, you still haven’t heard about Prince Thomas before.”

Newt’s heart skips a beat at the mention of the Prince’s name… _Thomas…Thomas…Tom. Tommy._

“Prince Thomas...” Newt mumbles, as if tasting the name on his tongue. It felt exciting to him, even a little weird… but in a good way, “well, what’s he like?”

Minho clicks his tongue, “Thomas is a good guy. He’s really friendly to people who are devoted to him – like, for me, I even get to call him just by Thomas now if there’s no one around. He’s a little sulky and can get awfully possessive and become shallow and superficial at times, but nobody’s perfect. He’s absolute treasures people he loves, and if you’re chosen to be his consort by him, you’re sure going to prepare for a lot of exercises on the bed,” the tanned male winks a little, and Newt can feel a blush rising to his cheeks, “he has a lot of consorts by the way… but surprisingly, they all live extremely peacefully. It’s really hard for the Palace to be in such peace with so many lovers, but surprisingly our country can do it. Others are fighting and killing each other to death for the title of giving birth to the Prince’s first son. The King and Queen are very strict, but they also very forgiving and have morals so as long as your actions make sense and have reason, they will not punish you.”

Newt nods mindlessly, as he takes in all the information. He must have started to smile a bit because he then hears the sound of Minho chuckling.

“What,” Minho says with a joking tone, “you’re already in love of him from my description?”

The blonde boy’s eyes widen at the accusation and almost frantically starts shaking his head.

“Nope, I didn’t!” He says rather indignantly for some reason, “I’m just thinking… plus,” Newt sighs, “I’m really starting to doubt my chances. From what I heard, Prince…Thomas…only picks consorts whom are female… which is already a disadvantage for me.”

“Don’t worry,” the royal guard says, voice laced with sureness, “Thomas will definitely pick at least one male consort this year. If not this year, then next year.”

Newt’s breathing hitches at Minho’s words, “What?”

“You heard what I said. The Royals have already been receiving complaints from the media as well as other countries for Thomas’ consorts up to now only being females. It kind of creates a disadvantage for males to step up into the Royals’ family, and there’s been huge complaint letters sent to the Palace. The media wants at least one male consort from Thomas – whether their love is true or not – to prove that males have just the same amount of chance as females in the selection to be elected and give them hope.”

“Oh,” Newt mumbles, slightly confused, but finds himself grateful for the news, “And there’s one last thing I want to ask…” the pale boy blushes as he tries to find the correct words, “What type of people… does Prince Thomas like?”

Minho grins, “That, I can’t tell you. Just be yourself. Dress yourself up elegantly during the selection, not too fancy but not too shabby either. Thomas loves real people, who showcase their emotions and are true to who they are. Just don’t fake yourself. Oh, and smile more. You look absolutely stunning when you smile.”

Newt, not picking up the hint the royal guard included in the last sentence, nods in understanding and scrambles for a pen in his pockets to write the advice down.

Minho chuckles to himself quietly as he watches the lithe frame of the boy in front of him scribble words down on his skinny, pale arm in loops of cursive handwriting. Too cute. Adorable, even. A warm, tingling and sweet feeling started eroding inside the royal guard’s body, a bit like dosing on millions of cups of sugar. Sweet, even more than honey.

“I’m a Two, by the way,” Minho suddenly finds himself blurting out, and Newt jerks up, looking startled. Then, Newt chuckles, a light sound ringing through the air. The pale boy hasn’t found the energy to smile in months, after the news of his father declining health and the cost to the cure to the Winter Disease.

“That’s great, congratulations,” Newt says sincerely, “sorry about the news you are just about to hear but this shabby looking friend here is a Six. Only four levels below you, beware for my rising.”

Minho laughs, louder than before, and quickly tones down when he sees Anna and Ash stirring. The warm feeling in his heart spread and grew even more, like multiplying into thousands in milliseconds.

“Newt,” Minho whispers out, feeling his heart beat slowly becoming faster and faster.

The called boy glances up under his long eyelashes, dark brown eyes curious for knowledge.

“If you’re… look, I don’t want to curse it because I know you’d really like to be chosen by Thomas… but… if you’re rejected, come and find me okay? I want to tell you something if that time comes.”

“What, going to give me a job as a stable boy in the Palace or something?” Newt jokes slightly, as his eyes crinkle into an eye smile, “But alright Minho, whatever floats in your boat. Should I come if I get chosen too, then?”

“No,” Minho says firmly, “don’t come if you’re chosen. I can’t give you a job as a stable boy when you’re a consort and one level higher than me. I should then be _your_ stable boy.”

Newt nods and drops his head back down, obviously tired from all the talking. After a few moments of silence except for the horses trotting to pull the carriage along, Newt lifts his head back up again, “Minho,” he begins, “how many participants does Prince Thomas… usually select to become consorts? Like, per year.”

Minho slightly smiles, feeling selfish but he couldn’t feel bad when the butterflies in his stomach are about to burst open at the pale boy’s quiet but addicting charms, “One only. It’s always been one. He was ordered by his parents to wed a few consorts that tally up his amount of people in the Palace, but if we’re talking about selections, people he chose personally, than it’s either none or only one per year. Last year, everyone was rejected for some reason. It’s hard to know what’s in Thomas’ heart sometimes, really.”

Newt feels his breathing hitch as a slight skim of dread begins to fill his stomach. There’s already been around one hundred participants _just_ from Six to enter the selection, and if every other sector has around one hundred people competing, there will around 500 or more participants wanting to be the collector of the Prince’s heart. There’s no way he – a lanky and petite male from Six who has no charisma, no presence, no experience nor charms – will be chosen. Newt tries to bite back the tears, which are threatening to fall out. Until now, he’s never realized the importance of becoming a consort for the Prince. At first he took it as a random opportunity and to test his luck for money and a better life, but now, he figures the chance is more than that. If he doesn’t get chosen – he will be sent back to the lifestyle he has currently, and he won’t be able to apply again. He will have to watch his father die of a disease that _can_ be cured, his mother using her own tears to wash her face for the rest of her life and his family becoming hollow and empty; all family pictures slowly becoming covered in layers of dust.

He can’t let this happen.

Newt grits his teeth, and clenches his hands together. This year, he needs to be the one.


	2. // TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll try to update this more ;__;
> 
> not edited yet; i'll do it soon

Time went slow by Newt’s side, until he was gasping between state of consciousness of awake and asleep. Eventually, he drifts to slumber, heart full of worry and chest tightening. There is nothing more he wants but to go back to his family’s side, and watch them happily as they bicker about the most trivial things. Newt admits he is poor, yes, but he would also like to think of himself as someone strong. Someone who can stand up to whatever thrown towards him, someone who doesn’t mind the rain in order to get the rainbow. A deep linger of longing flows into his bloodstream, and hums the silent tune of sadness silently.

Sometimes, life is lonely.

//

Somehow, Newt expected more when the carriages finally came to a halt. Something like a surge of happiness, or something alike to wonder, and excitement, to finally rest in a reality where his feet are touching the grounds of One. One, the capital and the wealthiest of them all. The royal grounds. Beside him, he can hear the endless chatters and whispers of Rosa and Linda, obviously happy and relieved to finally arrive in the city of their dreams. Joanna writes nervously in the small diary she carried around, and Anna gently shakes stray dust out of her dress. Ash looks around in admiration, eyes never leaving the stunning architectures of the city.

“So, how do you like it?”

Newt jumps at the sudden words that drift by his earlobe, and turns sharply to see Minho smiling. Newt beams back, nodding his head in satisfaction.

“Even the air is different. Nicer, cleaner,” he responds honestly, “just… it doesn’t really live up to its hype, you know? I think. Ever since young when I heard about One… I always thought of it as a majestic place of the heavens… but this feels realer than I thought of it. This place doesn’t make me want to drop my jaw as I would, for example, if I got to experience heaven first handed.”

“Always gotta be unique, don’t you,” Minho grins friendly, eyes shining with understanding, “but I know what you mean. Despite the legacy that is carried along with One… well, it’s smaller than you think. It’s not some huge, gigantic royal place with gold walls that go on for miles… everything… is in fact, quite humble.”

Newt thinks he can get used to this. The clear blue sky void of any dust, actual healthy trees instead of polluted and dying ones, everyone around him dressed in clean, formal clothing than the shags he’s been given with, and everyone smiling, instead of the tears and frowns of poverty he has seen ever since birth.

One of the head royal guards makes his way to the front, uniform shining brightly under the warm sun. It makes him look respectable, healthy, and well loved.

“Welcome contestants,” he says in a nice, smoothing voice, “to the home of the Royals, One.”

And with that, screams of delight and excitement echo out and about the Palace walls, providing more cheer and comfort to Newt than he has ever received before.

Minho gives him one last smile before jogging away, heading towards the direction of the Palace where all the other royal guards are going towards.

“I’m be going,” he calls out, “see you soon, Newt.” He ends his speech with a clumsy wink, and Newt laughs before waving goodbye.

“So what was that?” Ash suddenly questions, eyes widening in curiosity and an oddly knowing glance.

Newt huffs, “what do you mean?”

“We all saw and heard both of you on the carriage,” Linda snickers, “the small conversation was so touching. I almost felt like I had to be excused for the moment so I won’t ruin the atmosphere.”

Everyone bursts into laughter.

“Well, I certainly don’t know and would not like to know what are you guys talking about,” Newt declares, cheeks slightly pink, “please keep all of it to yourself.”

Happily, Joanna flings an arm around him as the group makes their way into the Palace, following the crowd, and Newt feels like it’s the first time he ever made real friends.

//

“Males and females separate,” the lead maid calls out sternly, as the entire pool of contestants step into the large and grand-scaled entrance hall of the Palace.

Newt takes in the sight of the interior of the Palace, and wonders if one bar of that gold used as a decoration for the hanging lights that twinkle down the ceiling is already enough for at least two years’ worth of medicine for his father’s Winter Disease. The interior of the Palace is the definition of class, royalty, and beauty itself. The walls are painted in a gradient of pure white, slowly mixing into yellow and then gold, covered with paintings of abstract animals and landscapes, of clouds and rivers with thinner brushes. Each side of the large entrance hall is embroidered with patterns carved skilfully out of gold, and rocks of diamond embedded in them to capture the light. The roof is like a crystal dome, with shiny glass panels stretched across the ceiling majestically, in all its glory. The sunlight that streams through the roof hit all the right places of the Palace, making the entire hall glow; making it almost like the residential area for garden fairies and the angels of heaven.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Anna breathes in, taking in the crafty designs scattered across the hallway as they make their way through the hall and into the main room. Ash beside her hums in agreement.

Newt chuckles as he watches Joanna almost have to steady her friend Rosa who seemed overwhelmed with the Palace, and Linda’s eyes which seemed like they were going to fall out any second.

They find their feet halting them as they come to the end of the hall, the corridor in front separating into two vast separate longer halls.

“Ladies down that one, men down this one.” The head maid repeats, voice stern.

Newt hesitates for a moment, slightly upset to say goodbye to the friends he have only known for a short amount of time. Anna gives him a small smile before disappearing down the other side, before all others do.

And just like that, they are gone. The next time they will see each other will be as rivals; enemies – competing against each other to win the heart of Prince Thomas. Who knows if they will acknowledge each other if they come back to Six after they have lost. Newt feels dread collecting inside of this mouth and swallows deeply.

_In this Palace, the only ally will be the Prince. And that is, if he loves you._

The pale boy shakes his head at the absurd thought, and feels another wave of homesick crash upon him. Everything simply isn’t fair. Of how he is forced to choose, and go against everyone around him in order to become the One of this year.

Suddenly, a warm hand tugs onto his and Newt jerks his head.

“Hey.” It’s Ash, with his bright eyes and grey hair, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he responds and allows himself to be dragged away along with the other boys down the allocated hallway, “I’m fine.”

Newt hopes they can all still be friends, after the Selection.

//

The rooms they are given to stay in are humble, but nice enough to feel comfort in. They are given small boxes to put their belongings in, which were later locked up and stored. Thankfully, Ash claimed the bed right next to Newt’s in the corner, and automatically helped the latter to unpack.

“Damn, that’s not a lot of stuff you have here,” Ash comments, as he curiously goes through Newt’s spare shirts sprawled out on the bed messily.

“Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Newt replies, eyes crinkling into crescents as he folds each one of them up and stores them in the given compartments.

The older boy lets out a noise of disapproval, before heading over towards his own bed to start unpacking his things.

The buzz of noise sweeps through the air, as many young boys, just like Newt himself – engages into endless chattering of excitement and fear of the Selections. Many have also heard the rumours of Prince Thomas choosing a male consort for the sake of the media, and have found themselves signing up to the Selections in hope of a better life.

“Sometimes I don’t like how they keep saying we’re going to be the future ‘consort’ of Thomas,” Ash breathes, “can’t they keep it classy with something like ‘lover’ or future ‘partner’? Makes us sound like sluts or something.”

Newt almost chokes as air and has to hesitate for a moment before continue unpacking, “It’s true though,” he mutters, “Prince Thomas has so many consorts already. I doubt he needs anymore. The Selections are just something to keep the country entertained with. And I really don’t think Thomas sleeps with all of them. Probably some are just left in the corner as a statue or something.”

“And the first male consort will most likely end up as that statue,” Ash agrees, voice grim, “left away to waste the rest of his best years as some wooden furniture untouched, I bet. If Thomas liked males enough, he would have had a male consort a long time ago. Not waiting until now. It’s so infamous that all he has are piles of girls waiting for him outside his bedroom door.”

The seventeen year old boy hums in agreement, despite coldness sweeping into his throat _. Left as some furniture to rot away._ Somehow, Newt can only wish that it won’t happen to him, or happen to anyone. _But then again,_ Newt thinks, _if I’m going to be using Thomas for money, why can’t he use me as an image? I sound too greedy asking for Thomas’ care as well as the status he will give me at the same time._

The sun began to set down as all the contestants finally finished unpacking their items, and including themselves into a few rounds of endless chatter and gossip. Newt chuckles politely as he makes himself comfortable in the room of male contestants he has been organized to share a room with, everyone bright and too cheerful about the entire situation.

“So,” Sam, one of the male contestants with sandy blonde hair and pale blue eyes Newt knows Thomas might love says, “I’ve asked around. It seems as if with all of Prince Thomas’ female consorts’ appearances and styles, there’s a type that he likes the best.”

The entire room suddenly bursts into chatter and excitement. Even Ash, who didn’t seem too keen about the gossip, found his eyes widening at the statement.

Newt presses his lips together hesitantly.

“So? What’s the deal?” another boy, William, presses, who is eighteen and has the brightest pair of emerald green eyes Newt has even seen.

“Well apparently Thomas likes those with a fierce, you-can’t-wreck-me attitude,” Sam snickers, “he loves to see them lead him on, and then watching them break in front of his eyes with his touches and words. Trust me. All of his consorts are pretty, well, what can I say – strong, bold, that even the high officials are scared of them despite them all being females Thomas beds with. He wants someone who can play hard to get.”

“Kinky as hell,” Ash comments with an amused tone, and with that, the entire room erupts into chattering.

 _Well, there goes my non-existent chance of getting picked_ , Newt muses, somehow not even feeling surprised. He suddenly finds his heart racing upon the new idea that he has created in his mind, blood pumping furiously around his body and cheeks turning bright red.

 

 _Seeing how this type of gossip will mostly likely be spread across all the contestants,_ he realizes, _everyone will most likely try to dress up as appealing and ferocious as possible. If I can manage go against that – and appeal with a softer, lighter image – there’s no doubt I will be the one attracting attention. They’re all probably going to go for black or red with their clothing. I can go for white and blue._

 

Newt wrinkles his nose at the thought of purposely dressing up docile to hunt for the attention of another, but sighs when the image of his father with the curable Winter Disease pops up into his head, giving him the motivation to advance further. For his family, he can do this.

//

As the night falls, all contestants are given a small time slot to shower, and prepare for sleep and the choosing ceremony on the next day. Newt bathes himself in delight – having it being one of the first times he has a bath of warm, clean water all for himself to use. Life in Six has not been easy – with most of the water used on his cleaning ice cold and most likely previously used to wash other cleaner parts of the body. The still remembers the grime stuck under his nails, the dirt that just won’t leave his hair, and the trails of mud that are smudged on his skin. Somehow, after using the warm water to make himself clean, Newt almost feels as if he has been reborn. While a part of him feels strange in being given such luxury, another part of him feels as if he could really spend forever being in the Palace, being taken to warm bathes and given exotic food to eat. The previous luxuries of life that seemed to never have a chance to show up within Newt’s sight seems all so attainable at that very second.

 _…Of course, that is if Thomas picks me out of the few thousand contestants as his consort,_ Newt sighs, and goes back to scrubbing himself clean with soap.

Newt manages to wash his hair too within the given time slot, and sighs happily as he runs his hair through his now, freshly washed blonde hair that seemed to be slightly puffy and mangled after a long time of poor care. The boy from Six takes a few seconds to run his skinny, pale fingers down his cheekbone, watching the bones slightly prod out from a poor diet (and well, lack of money to have a good diet). Newt winces. Starving for a day or two was never unheard of in Six, and Newt had been the one to experience it first handed many times. It would always rest on Newt’s guilt, if he eats the servings of food that belonged to his tired and old parents. Never once he was unwilling to quickly pass the plate of rice into his parents’ hands, and give them a smile, saying “I’m not hungry” and head back outside to work on the crops again. With that, Newt’s heart fell slightly.

“Hello? Newt, are you done?” It was Ash’s voice.

The latter jerks himself out of his daze, and quickly gets dressed in the clothes given to him. A nice plain white shirt, and a pair of plain white pants, made of actual cotton. The fabric clung onto Newt’s skin, making him feel comfortable and at ease.

“I’m coming,” he calls back, as he opens the bathroom door.

Ash smiles and ruffles Newt’s hair on his way in, “Trying to look good for Thomas, aren’t you?” he laughs friendly, “don’t worry, you’re totally adorable. I think he will like you very much.”

“Easy for you to say,” Newt retorts, but with a similar smile on his face.

The bed felt like cotton and feathers, a mixture of the softest material Newt has never gotten to touch, let alone rest on. The entire night felt like paradise to him, of him sleeping on clouds and marshmallows and the sort of happiness that only belongs in good dreams and fairy tales. A part of Newt wishes his parents were there to experience it with him.

 _They will experience this type of happiness too_ , a voice instead his head tells him, _after you become chosen and your parents become Twos._

 

Newt sighs and drifts to sleep.

//

When Newt makes up the next day, all he finds ringing in his earlobes is the sound of excitement and chatter, both high pitched and low pitched mixing today to create a loud, dull hum. He yawns and stretches his arms, skin feeling refreshed somehow after his first time on sleeping something more comfortable than a pile of old rags tied together to make something alike to a bed.

“Time to wake up,” Ash calls as the older boy slightly shakes, and Newt whines before following the directions.

As soon as he properly sits up, he almost drops his jaw at all his roommates scrambling around, some looking at the clothes the Royals sent them to wear, some adjusting their appearance, glossing up their hair and applying some basic foundation onto their faces. Newt can only imagine the female rooms to be in even more of a chaos.

“Wow! Everyone getting prepared for the selections already. What’s the time?” Newt half committedly comments, too busy trying to scramble out of his bed and begin preparing himself. Ash already looks half done – his face freshly shaved with hair combed nicely – just falling over his forehead, and skin looking soft and clean.

“Around 1’o clock,” Ash begins, and bursts out laughing when he sees Newt begin to flail around, panicking, “don’t worry. Last night was really busy, so it’s only obvious some of us need to sleep a lot. Although I’ll suggest you to hurry up. The Selections start at 5 o’ clock sharp and goes on until 10, before all is clear and the ones that were not chosen will be led back to the dorms to rest and be sent back home tomorrow morning. So you only really have 4 hours.”

“Damn it,” Newt groans, as he grabs a towel and makes a beeline towards the showers, “five hours. That’s bloody not even enough time to make my hair alone look presentable.”

“You look fine,” Ash reassures behind him, “although do hurry up. I think there’s still time to go to the tailors around the corner to have your clothing polished up nicely so you’ll look as presentable as possible in front of Prince Thomas.”

Newt sighs as he suddenly is reminded of his idea previously – white and blue. _Ugh,_ he thinks, _I’m going to look like a new born baby at the Selection. All pure and fresh._

“You okay?” Sam asks as he pops up beside him to grab another clean towel, “you’ve been staring at the showers room door for the past minute.”

Judging by the gel that slicked back the latter’s hair, Newt decides that he is right about most of the contestants going for an edgy look.

Newt nods curtly, “Yes.”

As the blonde boy turned on the shower water, he bends down and scoops through the various bottles littered across the floor, with ridiculous colours and patterns on the labelling. He manages to find the bottles that are required to wash his hair, and then begins to hunt for body liquid and soap. Unfortunately majority had be used, so Newt huffed in annoyance before squeezing out the few tiny drops left inside, and quickly rinsed his body. An image of the royal guard, Minho, suddenly popped into his band and Newt almost wheezes at the thought of the strong, musky natural scent that belonged to the guard. Every single part of him screamed power and wealth, the kind Newt will never be able to associate himself with. For a brief moment, the Six almost felt slightly jealous and irritated at the fact that some people can just grow up absolutely outstandingly, while people like him would have to sell off their entire future and love life in order to receive privileges they are in _need_ of.

Sighing, Newt steps out of the shower and dries his body swiftly with a towel and wonders if it is going to be his last opportunity to shower in somewhere as regal and high classed as where he is currently is. _Soon, I’m going to have to return to his cold baths and freezing beds,_ Newt muses, and cringes at the thought.

Pulling on a simple white dressing robe, the blonde boy steps out of the showers and automatically shuffles straight towards the tailors. He moans miserably when he sees a record worthy line outside, all the contestants chattering to each other excitedly and applying on makeup. Newt bits his lip, heart slightly soured.

_If only I woke up early, this wouldn’t have happened. Now I doubt even if I line up it’s going to be my turn. This is it. I screwed up. I won’t have some fitting clothes for the Selection, and Prince Thomas isn’t even going to look at me for a single second. Alright, guess I should be looking forward to that dead landscape of Six again soon, I guess._

As Newt continues to ramble inside of his mind, he fails to notice the hand on his shoulder and yelps when somebody pushes him slightly.

“Newt!”

The called boy whips his head around at the second of the voice, before lips widening into a smile.

“Rosa,” he says pleasantly, before embracing the girl into a hug. When they manage to separate, Newt takes a good look at shiny black dress Rosa is wearing, completed with matching gloves and a stylish white belt hung around her hips.

He says the first words that come out of his mouth, “You look amazing.” And it’s completely true.

Rosa beams, obviously happy her work into coming up with an outfit paid off, “Thank you,” she giggles, “it look a long time for me to decide. Especially after how it became known around us that Prince Thomas liked people with an edge, I really wanted to step up to my game.”

The girl then proceeds to take a long look at Newt’s bath robe, and her face turns into a frown, “What about you, Newt? Why are you dressed like this? Shouldn’t you be in your outfit by now? We still have three hours left, but finishing touches can take a long amount of time. And if you need up needing to go to the tailors,” she gestures the ever growing line, “it’s going to take even longer.”

Newt feels a warm wave of embarrassment flooding within him, but decides to tell the girl in front of her the truth. After all, they could be considered friends.

“Well,” he begins, cheeks turning pink, “Uh, I kind of woke up late? So most of the outfits are already gone. And seeing how the tailors’ line is so long, I think I’m a bit screwed.” Newt bites the inside of his cheeks.

Rosa gives him a small frown of sympathy, before eyes suddenly lighting up, “Hey! I know,” she babblers, obviously excited, “Joanna brought a lot of fabrics with her to the Selection. She’s kind of a creative girl, and finished touches to her own personally made dress yesterday. She’s got a load of fabric left over, and some even already made outfits too as she had trouble deciding between a few dresses and shirts. Obviously you won’t be able to wear all of them, but it’s better than nothing!”

The pale boy’s eyes widen, and he almost restricts Rosa from her air supply from the tight hug he placed around her.

“Oh My Gosh, Thank you so much for the help,” Newt whispers, eyes warm with gratefulness. Somehow it almost feels unreal, to be given help even when the situations are urgent and competitive. He suddenly remembers his mother’s words, _See the good out of everyone_ , and mentally scolds himself for thinking otherwise. That everything is going to go wrong, and all his friends will leave him.

He follows Rosa down the female corridor (checking a couple times to make sure there was no guards or maids around. There wouldn’t be any, anyway. Everyone’s too busy panicking over the Selection), eyes curiously taking in the sight. The female corridor is decorated in much more pale, pastel colours, of soft yellow stars painted across the ceiling and silver ribbons hanging on every wall. As they twist and turn through the maze-like paths, they finally reach the end of one pathway and Rosa effortlessly twists open the knob to her and (presumably) Joanna’s room.

//

When his eyes adjust to the new light, all he can see are colours. Fabrics carelessly spewing all over the floor, in all sorts of patterns and designs. Newt’s mouth drops open, as he bends down to have a look at pieces of satin cut and crafted into incredible shapes.

“I thought – isn’t, Joanna – a Six like us? Why…?” He clumsily gestures the surroundings.

Rosa huffs, “Joanna is some humble bastard. She has relatives from Three and Four but she never really mentions it. This,” she gestures with her hands, “are stuff her relatives send her. They have a fabric factory, so it’s kind of like a family business I guess.”

As Newt is about to reply, the door to a walk in cabinet flings open and Joanna steps out, dressed in a handmade denim skirt and a leopard print top, with matching printed boots and gloves.

“Rosa, do I look good in this – holy, what?” She wildly gestures at Newt sitting cross legged on the floor.

Newt raises a hand, as if being seen sitting on the floor of the female participants’ room is a normal, everyday thing, “Hi.”

Rosa giggles, “Uh, our friend here, woke up late and couldn’t find some nice clothes to seduce Price Thomas in. I recommended you.”

Newt scolds and fake punches the girl, automatically taking back what he thought about the good in people.

“You’re mean,” he declares.

Joanna’s eyes shine in understanding as her mouth turns into an ‘o’ shape, “I get it now,” she says, “you want me to play doll dress up using you!”

“It’s not doll dress up!” Newt protests, cheeks hurting from all the smiling done.

“Whatever. Same thing,” the girl says breezily, as she steps daintily over the fabrics with her boots, “Lucky for you, blondie, while you were sleeping your ass off yesterday without a care, I stayed up late to sow all sorts of stuff so I would have a define outfit today,” her eyes flicker to a pile of premade shirts, “any colours you want to go with?”

“Uh, white and blue,” Newt manages to gasp, feeling slightly embarrassed to ask for such light colours in front of two girls dressed as if they are ready to kill.

Joanna merely hums before shoving a pile of clothes to Rosa, who automatically began to sort them through, tossing away half and keeping the rest.

At the end, Newt manages to catch from Rosa’s hands a button up white shirt, light blue trousers and a darker blue cardigan with a hoodie. Joanna manages to cut and sow the hoodie off (to “lessen the informal ‘I am here to screw things up’ feeling”, as quoted by Rosa). Even with all the amendments made, Newt can still notice strands of stray thread and poor cut of the fabrics, as evidence of Joanna’s urgent late night stitching. He gives the two girls a hug, before hurrying in to try on the outfits. Thankfully, his legs slides in rather well, despite being a bit too tight in the ankle area and quickly buttons up his shirt and tosses the cardigan over it.

Newt hears Rosa and Joanna humming in approval as he steps out, and almost jerks to see Linda also in the room, dressed in a one piece red mini dress and a pair of red high heels. Newt’s mouth almost runs dry.

“Rosa told me you were having difficulty,” the 22 year old says cheerfully, unpacking makeup she had brought with her onto the (messy) bed, “My roommate is this spoilt Three, I doubt she wouldn’t even notice if I took half her makeup collection away. This is only a bit of it, by the way. Come here and sit down, it’s time to do some refreshing changing with your face and hair.”

Newt half groans half chuckles, and watches the three girls grin at each other.

“Consider yourself lucky we’re helping you,” Joanna chimes in, voice ringing, “it’s only because you were in the same carriage as us.”

“I shall feel honoured,” Newt replies, wanting to sneeze when powder is applied to his face, “remind me to marry you if we don’t get chosen.”

“All three of us. Oh, and Anna too!” Rosa says and everyone in the room laughs merrily.

Somehow, it didn’t feel so much like the Selection and a competition anymore. It felt more like a strong, bonding friendship, and for the first time ever since Newt entered the carriages, he felt as if he’d be okay with not becoming the One after all.

//

Newt only remembers mess and even more mess when the time for the Selection began inside a huge hall, decorated and covered in gold and silver. Everyone has been arranged to be placed in alphabetical order, and with Newt’s last name as ‘Isaacs”, he has been unhappily shoved in the middle of a growing pile of people in the middle of the Selection hall _. Great, even more reasons to not pick me,_ Newt groans, in the middle. _How is he going to pick me if I’m all the way over here and it’ll probably take 3 hours before it reaches my turn to be in front row? He’d long have chosen someone by then._

Amidst the endless chattering, Newt sees a flash of familiar royal colours – before he lunges to pat the shoulder of a royal guard walking swiftly through the crowd.

“Minho!” he calls out, and the guard whips his head around.

Minho’s breath almost stops as he takes in the blonde boy’s appearance, styled up in white and blue among the sea of dark and confronting colours, hair styled back messily, and face covered in a thin layer of powder just to hide away any blemish, and lips highlighted slightly. Minho thanks for the miracle that he did not fall onto his knees at the very second.

“It’s been a while since I last saw you,” Newt says, tone excited and chirpy.

“Really? It’s only been two days,” Minho responds, and the two chuckle.

“You ready?” the royal guard further presses on, and watches as Newt shrug.

“I guess. Seeing so many contestants around me makes me lose a lot of self-confidence, though. But I’m okay.”

Minho nods, a wistful smile echoing on his face, “Are you ready though, if you become a consort?”

It certainly catches Newt’s attention, “What?”

The Asian boy simply presses, “Palace issues are pretty serious too. Thomas has quite some consorts, and they’re all aiming to give birth to his first born. Obviously that shouldn’t be an issue with you,” he squints at the Six, “unless you’re born as a giver – but that’s not even the actual problem. I think you know, the richer you are, and the more people will be there to bring you down. Thomas is only twenty two but there’s been at least five times his life was on the line. It certainly creates a lot of stress and pressure. At this rate – you would be better to marry or get married to someone else, you know.”

Newt frowns, eyes crinkling up, the only image in his mind being burned of his father sick on the bed, and his mother crying every day and night.

“I know,” he admits quietly, “but I have to do this.”

_I have to offer myself away._

//

When Prince Thomas finally actually entered the hall – everyone went completely crazy. Newt had strained his neck to actually take a glimpse of the Prince or any of the royal advisers that were following him, but everything was in vain. Everyone moved around, screaming and shouting, and Newt had simply given up. So instead, Newt huffed and patiently waited for the line to begin moving forward, so he can finally have his turn in the front, face to face with his supposedly future husband.

//

Newt grimaces at the flashback of the chaos that arrived when the Royals graced them with their entrance, himself being too short and skinny to do anything about the arms and legs waving around. However, now, when the Selection has finally officially started, all Newt can hear is silence and mummers of breath.

 _I think it’s already been an hour so far into the Selection…_ Newt thinks, _and no luck yet. No one called out yet._

The blonde boy tries to pretend to be as calm and collected as possible, but his insides churns every time he took one step in front, and he sighed out in resign.

For a couple of minutes, Newt’s mind wonders to the true physical appearance of Prince Thomas. Judging by how the crowd was reacting a while ago, the pale boy decides the Prince should be at least average above. Just in his mind, the Six thinks of a humble and kind boy with chestnut eyes, brown hair and the sweetest smile on his face. _If only it is someone I can fall in love with,_ Newt softly bites his lips, heartbeat quickening.

To his surprise, it took rather quick for the first half of the Selection participants to be eliminated. Newt hears from the quiet gossip around him that the Prince simply waved off people by a finger, each one after another. The blonde boy felt panic sweep into his heart. _Is it that hard to get the Prince’s attention?_

And suddenly, he is there. In the front row, waiting for his turn among the contestants to be face to face with the Price. And Newt looks up, observing the Prince for the first time. He feels his breath knocked right out of his windpipe.

Prince Thomas carries the embodiment of perfection himself – tall and slender, firmly built, honey brown hair and eyes and smooth skin with just the hint of freckles on his cheeks. Newt observes the Prince’s outfit, and notices the handsome suit that must have been customized made for him – and a shiny crown sitting on top of his head. Newt now knows why so many people seemed to go crazy over him.

However, Newt notices, Prince Thomas looks like he would rather do anything than be currently in the Selection. He glances at every contestant with dull eyes, sometimes even yawning when the contestant shyly introduces themselves, and turns them down with a flick of finger. The scribes around scribble down furiously, some even looking very worried. The blonde boy feels a pang in the heart, and wonders if he is going to be rejected as harshly and cruelly as everyone else.

_It would be painful… to be simply discarded, viewed as a piece of nobody to someone who carries the key to all your dreams and fantasies, just like everyone else. You’re nothing special – you’re not –_

And just like that, he is steps right in front of the Prince.

Newt shakes for a few seconds, before a pale blush flushes over his cheeks as he looks up, into those chestnut eyes as he imagined them, and opens his mouth softly.

“Newton Isaacs, it’s an absolute pleasure to be here today, standing in front of you, your highness.”

Shyly, Newt lingers a bit longer into the Prince’s gaze, and almost chokes when the Prince stares back, making the latter quickly drop his head down.

The blonde could feel the drum of his heartbeat, as seconds go on… Thomas hasn’t told him to get out yet, so did he have a chance? _I really hope so,_ Newt thinks, answering his own question, _please… please… please let my father get the cure to his disease…and then I can become anything…_

A few more seconds go on, and Newt can feel his breath hitch. He can feel the warm eyes that are currently staring so intensely at him, inking in his features, as he shook on the spot – that, just for a brief second, Newt wouldn’t mind standing there forever, just basking in the attention and warmth.

Prince Thomas licked his lips, and flops back onto his seat with a loud thump.

Newt cringes, heart beating so fast so fast so fast –

“Alright,” Prince Thomas says, voice like honey and chocolate, _“That one.”_

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

“Prince, you can’t pick a female again this year.” One of the advisers said, carrying a huge clipboard. Thomas thinks nothing would be better than a nap right now, as they head towards the Selection hall. It has been the same old thing every year, and often resulted into Thomas just picking the prettiest one out of pure misery.

Thomas never liked anything that required him to give hope to a large amount of people whom he knows he won’t be able to fulfil, and every time he dismisses a contestant he can feel their tears, their panic, as they slowly walk away. The Prince winces at the thought.

But there he is now, going through row by row of the contestants as if he is selecting ingredients off a shelf. _Not that one…no, not this one…_

He tries to keep his eye out more for the male contestants, but there is nobody so far who makes him happy. Everyone are in dark gloomy colours (somehow), and Thomas makes a mental note to just pick the next person who dresses in something that is not _black_.

He goes through a few more rows, many simply not catching his eye when –

_“Newton Isaacs, it’s an absolute pleasure to be here today, standing in front of you, your highness.”_

– travels its way into his ears, of a soft and melodious voice.

Thomas’ eyes snap up, as he loses himself in the appearance of a pale, blonde boy dressed daintily in white and blue, lips pink and ready to be kissed, and eyes shy but hopeful.

_“Alright, that one”_

**Author's Note:**

> please comment / leave heart if you enjoy and if you spot mistakes, please point them out.


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